


If Love Wants You: Melted Down to Stars

by blessedharlot



Series: If Love Wants You [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Compliant, F/M, Friendship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Trauma Recovery, True Love, natbucky reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9124429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: She shouldn’t stay. They shouldn’t say goodbye. She couldn’t bear it.Or they should say goodbye… they should demand a better goodbye than they got before.She was frozen in indecision.She considered bolting for the door, right then. No explanation offered. Her just... gone. She deliberated it.Nat realized then that he had backed away and turned his back to her. He stood there, busying himself with some small thing, and waiting. Her no-goodbye option had occurred to him too.Not only had it occurred to him, he was offering it.She deliberated.-=-=-=-=-=-Thawing out is a process, for everyone involved. Natasha and Bucky finally face the cold together.This story takes place about six months after the events ofCaptain America: Civil War.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coffeebean87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebean87/gifts).



> The titles of this series and all the stories within it are taken from Anne Michaels’ poem “Last Night’s Moon.” 
> 
> Words said in Russian appear in brackets.

_“Look, I know it’s wrong of me to ask this of you.” Steve said. “But I have to. I can’t be there. And everybody in the world that I trust to be there, is right here with me. Except for you.”_

Natasha didn’t bother to check into the room prepared for her. Her traveling bag was small, so she just brought it with her to the medical center. She had deliberately packed light, since her task was only 48 hours long. She packed light… maybe to make the task seem smaller than it felt.

She sat numbly at the table while the doctor explained the science, part of which she understood.  Every three months or so, they warmed Barnes up and woke him -- partly for procedures and tests that couldn’t be done while he was under. But partly because an unhurried reawakening process was healing on its own. Trauma done in previous defrostings could be partially rewritten with new experiences. It reconnected what had been short circuited before, and actually grew new neural pathways.

She had a vague idea how it worked. Her own recovery had included processes based on the same concept.

_“Steve. You don’t think he would find this distressing?”_

" _Nat, you may be a stranger to him, but he knows you’re my friend. He knows you helped us. This is a better option than him being alone.” Steve paused. “I know, it’s just a couple of days. But I don’t want him to wake up alone.”_

Natasha fiddled with the corners of the magazine in her hand over and over again without realizing it, leaving the pages dog-eared by the time she had moved on to another distraction.  Now, a stray thread in the chair she sat in was picked and worried slowly from its tight green weave.

Over the last two months Natasha took down a significant military installation -- nearly single-handedly. She’d busted some big-game poachers who were in her way and she dismantled a brutal crime ring as well.

None of that evoked as much panic as this task churned up in her right now.

He was almost prepared for visitors, they said. Almost. Nothing to do now but wait in a room… with no companion but her own thoughts. Thoughts and memories, Russian and English, Russian and American, friends and foes and hybrids of the two all jumbled together.

_[“You’re not good enough yet to sneak up on me, Natalia.”] “If he’s that far gone, Nat, I should be the one to bring him in.” [“Lucky shot. Hit a very small target.”] “It was him. He looked right at me, and didn’t even know me.”_

Her attempts not to drown in her own head were interrupted by the arrival of a short woman in a green dress. She ushered Nat past a security detail into yet another room. It looked less like a waiting room built for crowds, where she had passed much of the afternoon. This looked more like a lounge… or even a study. There was a plush couch, a hardwood inlaid table with chairs, an entertainment console, a shelf with books, a few boxes that looked like they could be games, and a picture window.

She supposed there were hospitals somewhere in Wakanda that were more sterile in decor, that had that institutionalized feel about them. But this wasn’t one. She supposed part of Barnes’ therapy was to experience all this care in a homier looking place - something that contrasted sharply to the Soviet missile silo motif he was used to.

This room had a door that looked like it led to a more medicalized area. That probably led to him. She realized the woman in green had crossed the room to stand at that door, with intentions to usher Nat through it.

Nat realized that everything since Steve’s phone call felt like one big blur.

_“I’m sorry to ask Nat, I am. But I need this from you. Please.”_

_“Steve, you should know something.”_

_“Nat, I know I trust you. And I know that you two would really hit it off given half the chance, if you… if you can forgive what I know he’s ashamed of. But go ahead. What else should I know?... Nat?... We might have a bad connection, did I lose you?”_

_“You should know you’ll owe me big time.”_

_“I do know that, yes, ma’am!”_

Somehow she was across the room, and through the door.

And there he lay, surrounded by soft sheets and quiet, unassuming telemetry. Hair tousled, eyes closed, lips just parted. Head curled to one side, arm slung across his chest.

_[“You’re not good enough yet to sneak up on me, Natalia.”]_

Even with the gleam of the remains of his brutal bionic arm, he looked… ordinary. Gently asleep. Relaxed. She had only ever seen him that relaxed after they had sex. But then she only had experiences of the Soldier for comparison. She hadn’t properly met James Buchanan Barnes. Yet.

There was a chair at the foot of the bed. She moved the chair to the opposite side of the room and sat in it. She couldn’t decide whether she’d moved the chair to afford him some small measure of privacy, or for her own reasons. Then she pondered whether her own reasons included a direct desire to distance herself from him, or a need to stop herself from reaching out her hand and touching him. Maybe both.

She settled in for a long wait. They said it could take hours for him to wake up, and they absolutely insisted it be done on his timetable, unrushed. He had been forced through this step so many times. Letting this unfold of its own accord was a critical part of the healing. She’d even managed to hear them explain that he had a minimum of flashbacks during the previous awakening process, which was a surprise for everyone.

Nat noticed herself pacing, and tried to sit calmly.

Something occurred to her, as she found herself staring at him. She recognized the gentle pattern of freckles across Barnes’ neck. It felt so intimate, knowing that about him. Sorting through their strange intimacy made her head spin. Try as she might, Nat didn’t know what to do with the knowledge she had of him before. She didn’t know how to categorize it, or what conclusions to draw from it. She tried to compare it with what he might have known of her then, and what that meant he would know of her now. What did their collected knowledge even mean? A few facets of each other, glimpsed under duress, a lifetime ago. A few moments of contact... a few very important moments of contact.

_[“Lucky shot. Could have done a lot more damage.”]_

It was captivity, for all intents and purposes. For both of them. It was extreme duress... the kind of conditions that make lovers or enemies. That they happened to be one or the other when they were split apart was probably irrelevant now, she decided. Her stray emotions in the present were likely only a product of the interrupted way they ended. Like in his rushed awakenings, feelings were short-circuited. The love affair wasn’t given time to end of its own volition. It would have faded. Someone would have tired of the other. They barely knew each other, after all.

The telemetry around him gently chirped to itself. She noticed there was a screen near him that had the date, his name, and some photographs of him and a few other people. One was a very tiny Steve. The display did not change or blink out. As Nat leaned in to look more closely at the photographs, she suddenly felt very self-conscious and intrusive. She wondered if she should really be here, and very nearly left.

In the end, she stayed.

Every once in awhile, as she waited, he stirred and stretched and flopped himself into a slightly different position. Most looked quite uncomfortable, but he stayed remarkably limp and relaxed. He was a flailing sleeper.

Watching him sleep, a part of her felt like her 20 year old self again - still so sharp inside, and hollow. The contrasts that tied them together felt unreal to her. The brutality of their previous life together, and his peaceful repose in front of her. Their history of working together, and against one another. Their caresses were a lifetime ago, but goosebumps lingered on her skin even now, as though he’d only recently touched her.  And, of course, the passion of their previous bond existed right alongside the reality that she hadn’t ever really met the man in front of her now. She felt the staggering dichotomies like palpable organs, fighting each other for space inside of her.

The next time she looked up at the sounds of his repositioning, his eyes gently opened, looked at ceiling above him and at the nearest wall, and closed again.

She noticed then that she still had the dog-eared magazine clutched in her hand, completely forgotten all this time. She sat down and tried to read it. About twenty minutes later, she stared past the swimming text of an article about some kind of skin care product when she felt him jump.

She looked up, startled. He had bolted up upright in bed and was staring at her. He looked shocked and dismayed.

Natasha worked to calm her own elevated breathing and shift slowly forward in her chair.

In her steadiest voice she spoke. “Do you know where you are?”

Barnes still stared, but he blinked and gave a little nod. She believed him; the display on the information screen had changed, as though he’d seen it and clicked through to find something else. As desired, he probably saw that screen first and then took in the rest of his surroundings. Which included her.

He let go of a held breath and drew in air heavily. He looked so distressed, so suddenly, she was immediately regretful of her decision. She shook her head and stood.

“I should give you privacy.” She shook her head in a vigorous no. “This was an ambush. I should leave.” She bolted for the door.

“Natalia.”

It was so quiet, she wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t just imagine it. Or remember it.

She stood at the door, profoundly uncertain what to do. She was nearly knocked over by the nurse who then strode into the room, and Nat realized Barnes’ heart rate had leapt up at finding her here. _This was a mistake_ , she lamented silently. _I shouldn’t have done this._

The old nurse spoke authoritatively in Wakandan. They weren’t expecting him awake yet, Nat realized, and a translator wasn’t immediately nearby. The nurse examined the telemetry and checked his eyes. He gasped again for air, eyes darting around fearfully but never really focusing on anything but her.

As the nurse stared angrily at her, Nat finally, fully committed to her mistake.

“Okay.” Natasha stepped back into the room. She slowly, walked back to her chair and sat down again. Her voice was gentle and certain as she continued. “It's okay. I won't go.”

Nat couldn’t tell from his affect if he cared or not that she was staying. But she started taking long, gentle breaths herself. She kept on. “I won’t go. I'll stay right here.”

They both sat there, and his rapid breathing gradually began to slow. The nurse watched them both.

“I’ll stay, and we’ll talk.” Nat smiled, realizing only as she said it that she very much looked forward to talking with him. She spoke slowly. “But not right now. You don't have to talk now. You don't have to think. You don't have to do anything right now but rest. Just please don't worry right now.”

His face was softer, though his jaw was still set. He looked at her and nodded. The nurse was finally satisfied that he was calm, and that the distress hadn’t been medical in nature. She gave Barnes a nod, and then glared daggers into Nat as she left. Nat tried to look sheepish as the nurse passed by.

She lifted an eyebrow to Barnes. “I think I made a friend.”

He either grimaced or smiled at her. Nat wasn’t at all sure.

A different staff member entered with a tray of items - a tall thin man in similar green clothes as the other staff members. His demeanor was attentive, but slightly bored.

“Mister Barnes, my name is Aviwe, do you remember me? Themba tells me there was excitement. Are you alright?” Barnes nodded. “That’s good, I remind you that you are not to speak for a while longer. Let your throat warm and hydrate slowly.” As he gave those instructions, he looked very meaningfully at Natasha, who tried to project her best image of obedient innocence. Barnes noticed, and grimace-smiled again.

“To supplement your intravenous fluids I have for you that drink you liked so much last time. Good for the throat and the spirits.” Aviwe poured a small cup of it and handed it to Barnes, who sipped it, nodded, and sipped again.

Aviwe continued his instructions kindly, but with a slight monotone. “Excellent. You take that slow. And if your friend gets out of hand again and you need my protection from her, you press your red button, you remember? I’ll be here right away to throw the ruffian out.”

Barnes nodded at him as he left, then raised his eyebrows at Nat. In reply she lifted her hand and brought her thumb and forefinger together.

“I am this close to winning Miss Congeniality.”

-=-=-=-

Four warm Wakandan drinks and a half hour later, Barnes dangled his feet off the bed, while Nat finished another story. She slumped breezily in the chair, now only half as distant as it had been from the bed.

“And then it turned out I had the wrong kind of tiara. And I had to find a new one, and it was a whole big deal.” She threw her hands up and shrugged.

She told herself she protected his voice by doing most of the talking. And maybe that really was why she talked so much.

Nat got up and approached the foot of the bed, and softened her voice. “It looks like the treatment here is going well for you.”

He looked at the floor and nodded.

“They treat you well?” she asked.

He nodded emphatically.

Nat nodded too, and searched for what to say next. That’s when Barnes looked up at her. Their eyes met, and Nat couldn’t look away. She fell into that gaze, into a maelstrom of history and sensations. She practically lost her footing before she pulled herself back and looked away. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Barnes had some sort of abilities like Wanda’s, to get directly into her head.

“You don’t have to,” said Barnes, finally chancing a whisper. Nat kept a calm exterior while something in her leapt at his sound of his voice, thin and reedy as it was. “You don’t have to entertain me.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I’m here as an ambassador from your best friend, who has questionable boundaries around your well-being.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His look was unreadable. “I don’t know what the friend act is for, but you don’t have to.”

Nat was taken aback, and searched for words. “I know I don’t have to.”

“Just stop.”

Without noticing what she was doing, she took one step backwards. Her first impulse was to calm and de-escalate. “Let’s take a breather, and relax. We don’t have to hash anything out right now. I’m just here to keep you company is all.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head emphatically. His face twisted into a grimace and he spit out his next words. “I don’t want you here, Romanoff. Just leave. Now.”

She was stunned into silence.

“NOW!” he shouted, looking at the floor.

Nat tried to control the heat she felt in her face, tried to control the quick-frozen muscles keeping her glued to the spot. She willed her legs to move.

“Well, this was a waste of time.” She heard her voice come out quiet and flat, like the air had been knocked out of her. Somehow she felt the door in her hand, and another door, and eyes on her as she walked away.

_Steve is a ridiculous fool_ , she thought. _And so am I. This was pointless_. She should have just told Steve why it was a bad idea for her to step in for him. She should have told Steve long ago about a young naive girl's foolish investment and the foolish broken heart to follow. Because it didn’t matter. Did it even really matter whether the Soldier had loved her? The man and the woman who had that relationship were both gone. There was no reason for the secrecy and no reason for her to be here.

She entered the elevator that appeared in front of her and pushed a button. Why was she here? What really brought her?

If she were honest, it wasn’t only loyalty to Steve. It was a misplaced kind of loyalty, just because of the training. The Soldier - Barnes - was the last person who had truly taught her anything worthwhile. There still wasn’t a week that she had survived where something he taught her hadn’t kept her alive. And despite all the damage he’d done, and all the other trainers that made her who she was, she still had this stupid loyalty to him.

He probably never even knew the impact he’d had on her… not back then and not in the years since. He probably didn’t care, certainly not now that he'd remembered his Rogers-like ethics. To him, she was one of the many people he taught to do terrible things. She was just one more of his moral failures.

The memory slammed into her, interrupting her rage.

_[“Lucky shot. Hit a very small target. Could have done a lot more damage.”]_

She abruptly froze in her tracks.

_Shit_ , she thought. _No. That’s not right. That’s not right, I’m wrong._

_That’s not why I’m here. That’s not what happened._

She groped for her bearings, again, taking a deep breath.

Then she turned around and retraced her steps. She smiled politely at nurses and posted security, as though she hadn’t just left in a blind rage of emotions. And in short order, she stood in his study again.

Barnes had moved himself to the couch, where he now slouched, staring out the window. He didn’t look at her as she sat down in a nearby chair.

Without preamble, she heard her wavering voice start pouring out her thoughts. “The first time I spent any time at all around a family… it was right after I defected and joined SHIELD. My best friends have three kids now. They had just their oldest when I first stayed with them, trying to adjust to my new life.”

She looked only at her hands, but she knew somehow that he was listening carefully. She continued.

“What really bowled me over being around them were all of these... acts of love. All the time, every day. All kinds. Physical affection, doing things for each other. Listening. All kinds of loving actions. Hordes of them. There was no shortage.” She felt her brow furrow in remembered confusion. “Moments of care they’d give freely, and receive freely. Always trusting they were genuine. Always trusting there would be more. Gave them to me too. Blew me away. I was so confused. I knew so little about… what they were doing. How to do it myself.”

She looked over at him, but he was looking at the floor. Listening. She took a deep breath, and quietly exhaled. Then she kept going.

“The doctors in Odessa kept saying ‘lucky shot’. Every time I wandered in and out of consciousness, somebody would mention it. ‘Lucky shot.’ ‘Hit a small target.’ The ammo was built to tear up everything it could, but the aim...” She paused and willed him to listen. “The whole medical team talked about my assailant’s aim. ‘For all they wanted the guy behind you dead, they made an effort... to keep you alive.’”

He hadn’t moved, and his face was still blank. But his jaw had tensed at her revisiting of Odessa.

“So I guess… I guess my point here is… that you can’t get rid of me that easily,” she said defiantly.

He sighed loudly at that.

“Barnes. There’s no reason at all for you and I to stand on pretense. Or play games. We might as well be honest.”

He remained silent, and Nat wished more than anything that a crowbar could somehow fix this, so she could just come in swinging.

Instead, she sat where she sat and kept talking.

“Did you never really care for me?” she swallowed a knot in her throat and probed. “Fine. Then just tell me. Do you never want to see me again? Then tell me that. Now. To my face. If that’s the case then let’s just be clear. Let’s finish this and be done.”

“I don’t want to say any of that,” he mumbled miserably.

“Then what? What’s our obstacle?”

She got no response. But she had finally gotten a grip on something in all of this that she desperately wanted. And she wasn’t walking away without fighting for it.

“The thing is, Barnes,” she continued, “that even if we’re strangers to one another now… nobody else is gonna know what we know. About each other. About our heads. About our lives. Isn’t that at least worth acknowledging? Maybe... maybe we can both feel a little less foreign in the world.”

He moved his head only a little, but she knew he was listening closely.

“What’s the obstacle?” she asked again, softly.

“No obstacle,” he finally replied. “Natalia, there’s nothing in the way.” He was so quiet she strained to hear him. “There’s the opposite of something in the way. There’s nothing in the way, there’s emptiness in the way. There’s... holes. Holes in my memory. There’s holes in what I should have known. There’s holes in you that I put there and I don’t know why you’re pretending that didn’t happen.”

_Good_ , she thought. _There it is. I can work with that_.

“The holes you put in me don’t exist anymore,” she said firmly. “So that’s one problem solved. And it’s my business what I do with those healed wounds. They’re mine, not yours. So take this self-pity and shove it up your ass.”

There was silence in the room for several seconds.

“Jesus, you’re as bad as he is,” he mumbled.

“Yeah. You’re definitely stuck with him, too.”

“At least Wilson had sense enough to be hostile.”

“So you thought you could send me packing with a barb or two?”

“It was worth a shot.”

“You were going to save me from you. That is so insulting.” She sneered at him. “You’re awful at this. Look at you, you’re really already cracking on this grand plan to drive me away.”

He shrugged and stared at his fingers. “We both know I’m lousy at lying to you. And you’re smarter than I am. If it was gonna work, you wouldn’t be back here now.”

“You’re ridiculous. You really are an idiot, Barnes.”

“I can’t argue with that.” His eyes flitted everywhere else but her, while she frowned at him. At her silence, he continued. “So what now? Why are you here, Natalia? Honesty.”

She held her head high, and searched for words. When their eyes met, his gaze was soft. “Well,” she said. “We’re still tangled up together. Aren’t we?”

He looked in her eyes, and her stomach only lurched a little this time.

“So,” she offered. “Shall we wander around this mine field a bit more?”

-=-=-=-

Barnes requested a meal, and several very full dishes were delivered. Nat waited until the attendants had gone before she started poaching food off Barnes’ plates.

“Natalia.”

“I go by Natasha now,” she gently corrected him.

“Natasha.”

The name sounded strange in his voice. But she thought it best for her to stay rooted in the present, in who she had become. For better or worse, she suspected Natalia was gone.

“You’ve been... an Avenger.” He struggled to wrap his mouth around the word ‘Avenger.’ He looked at her like his statement was a question.

“I sort of fell into it,” Nat admitted to him. “I found some good people I trusted. One of them was Clint, who I think you briefly met. He and another friend got me involved with the good-guys, a whole legit organization of them. So I thought.”

He nodded. His eyes were a bit brighter, listening with occasional eye contact while he ate voraciously. She nibbled as she talked.

“I… stayed on the fringe. Snooped where I was told. Cleaned up loose ends that other white-hat types weren’t always prepared to do.”

She paused her nibbling and wiped her hands on a napkin.

“After a bit of shadow work, they eventually put me on the first string team of misfits.” She smiled at the memory of the first time Steve called her ma’am. “Defrosted super-soldiers. Benevolent alien gods. Egomaniacs in tin cans. You know, the usual.”

Nat felt her train of thought reach a boundary she’d stop at with anybody else. With him, she kept talking.

“It’s very strange,” she said. “Actually feeling a conscience grow inside. The slow realization that… you can choose to help. The very possibility that you can improve somebody’s life? Protect strangers?” She shook her head. “It’s absurd, and terrifying. The power to build. To sustain somebody’s life.”

Nat shivered, and realized Barnes had stopped eating and was looking at her, rapt. A minute later he said, “You got in trouble for helping. More than once. Me. That agent from… Murmansk. Is that right?”

“Kola Bay, oh wow. I had forgotten that.”

“They couldn’t even stamp it out of you. Not entirely.”

She mulled over his words.

“Sorry,” he blinked rapidly and shook his head. “I didn’t want to end up talking about them.”

His protective impulse warmed her heart.

Soon a different attendant arrived to take him to a procedure. He left with them as casually as if he were headed to a haircut. The attendant informed her the procedure would be a few hours, and he should come rest alone afterwards. The attendant also gently urged her to retire herself for the evening, and left Nat alone in the study. 

Nat found herself examining what books were waiting there for him. She saw Hemingway, Margaret Atwood, Isaac Asimov, Toni Morrison and Neil Gaiman represented, among several other names she didn’t recognize. There was also a stack of old worn paperbacks from the fifties and sixties. The selection seemed heavy on science fiction, and she wondered if Steve’s knowledge of young Barnes had anything to do with that.

Then she busied herself for a while investigating the music available to him. While she was in there, she built several playlists of music she thought he may like… ranging from jazz standards to southern rock. Though she’d never admit it to anyone, she also made him a playlist of disco.

She thought he might eventually like some punk and noise bands, but that might be an idea best pursued in phase two of his neurological recovery.

She found some writing materials in one drawer - some pens, loose paper, and a notebook Barnes had been writing in. She closed it quickly as she could, both desperately wanting to see what he wrote and feeling adamant that he have his privacy. She took a sheet of the loose paper, and a pen, and snuck back into his bedroom/recovery room.

She tapped the pen against her lips a few times, then wrote, “Rest. Or Steve will kill me. Be back tomorrow.” She left it on his nightstand.

-=-=-=-=-

“Ooo, that looks delicious!” She breezed into the study the next morning like it was a second home.

“You do know there’s other food in the country besides what these very kind folks bring *me* to eat *myself*, right?”

“Oh yes, I had something from the street vendor outside just a second ago. Quite yummy, lots of cumin. But this looks good too.” She nibbled off an egg dish they had brought him. He seemed to enjoy glaring at her.

They chatted quietly while he finished eating. Nat was explaining Clint’s daughter’s ballet skill when Barnes got up and came back to the table with two items in his hand. The two items turned out to be a deck of cards and a wooden block with several slots on one side.

Barnes set the block in front of his chair and the cards in front of her. “Deal,” he said.

She grinned. “What game?”

He shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re the dealer. Your call.”

“My call.” She relished the words as she shuffled. “Well, you were a 14-year-old older brother once. I bet you know how 52 pickup is played,” she teased.

There was a small smile at the corner of Barnes’ eyes, but it didn’t reach his mouth. “I don’t wanna talk about that,” he said gently.

“That’s fair. Different subject.”

“Different subject.”

“Oh. Do you like jazz?” She sat the cards down and headed for her playlists.

“That probably depends on what that word means now.” He smiled timidly. Strains of Coltrane’s favorite things wafted through the room, and Barnes lifted his head and closed his eyes. After a few bars, he opened his eyes and nodded approvingly.

They drifted into silence for several minutes, companionably moving into a game of gin rummy. Barnes used the slotted block as a stand to hold his cards.

“I miss programs on the radio,” Barnes mused. “Stories.”

“Next time you’re on the internet, you should look up the word ‘podcast.’”

“Okay.”

“What was your favorite radio show?”

“Fibber McGee and Molly,” he said without hesitation.

She smiled, delighted to have that information. “Favorite Andrews sister?”

“Meh. They were alright. Now the Boswell Sisters.” Barnes’ voice got more resonant; he was clearly filling Nat in on something of great importance. “They came earlier.” His lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Connie. Connie was keen. Beautiful voice, great smile.”

“Best Shirley Temple movie.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “All about the same.”

“Stupidest thing Steve's ever done.”

Barnes laughed a short laugh, from his belly. “I may not know much in this world. But I know we don’t have that kinda time, I have to be back in cryo in a few hours.”

“The short version, then.”

“Short version? Everything,” He chuckled to himself.

“Has he always been so unwilling to back down? Or did the serum amplify that along with his pecs? And glutes. And washboard abs.”

Barnes gave her a wary look, then searched for an answer to the question. “Nah, that's always been there. Sometimes I feel like the serum almost toned it down. He had... he had more to prove before. As a kid, he had to prove he could survive anything life threw at him. Had to be worthy of his dad’s sacrifice.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I think he needed to outlive his mom, too, so she didn’t have to bury him. Then she was gone and then the serum happened. And… I don’t know. Things are fuzzier, during the war. But I do think he just... didn’t have any more give-a-damn by that point. Maybe he figured he’d live through anything by then.”

“What about the-”

“No no. No. Your turn on the hot seat, why am i the only one being interrogated?”

“You not being interrogated. I just want to know stuff.”

“That’s an interrogation.”

“It is not.”

“Hobbies.”

“Needlepoint.”

He glared at her. She smirked at him.

“I still like art museums,” she said. He smiled with a few of the same memories she had. “I like working on bikes. There’s a thing now, where you ski, but you start off by jumping out of a chopper. That’s fun.”

“Where do you live? Where’s your apartment, or house, or bunker?”

“I am in between permanent residences at the moment.”

“Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah. Just time to move on. If i need a home base I’ve always got some family in New England.”

“Is that... Barton?”

She nodded.

“He means a lot to you.”

She smiled. “He... and his wife... and his kids do, yeah.”

“Gin. Deal again.”

“One little arm missing, and you’re gonna make me do all the work.”

Barnes refilled their drinks while she shuffled. Then he sat back down and resumed his questions.

“So about this... you being a good-guy thing.”

“Mhm.” Nat leaned in. Sounded serious.

Barnes paused, then his face got very grave. He took a deep breath and asked, “You and Steve ever have anything… personal... going on?”

Nat blinked. Then she burst out laughing. As Barnes eyes narrowed, Nat realized she’d actually thrown her head back... and was still laughing.

She finally regained her composure and replied "No." Then she started giggled again.

“What? That’s not a stupid question. Search ‘Natasha Romanoff’ on the internet and 90% of the pictures have you standing next to him.”

“Because we worked together, rather publicly.”

“Just the truth, Natalia.”

“Natasha,” she gently chided, though he seemed to ignore her correction.

“I don’t need protection from it. I’ll manage.”

“Barnes. I....” She working on not laughing. “I understand... that this could be... a little surreal for you to have to absorb even the possibility of something going on there. But you don't. There’s nothing there to have to take in.”

“He's a good-guy too,” Barnes insisted, though his shoulders were starting to un-tense. “And I guess a good-looking guy. I think you might have mentioned that. And a.. a *good* guy.”

“He is all of those things. He's also a terrible kisser."

Barnes' expression was so confused and bewildered that she felt a little bad at how much she enjoyed it. She hadn't intended to mention the kiss. That slipped out. But teasing him was delicious.

“I’m sorry,” she said halfheartedly. He still looked so bewildered. “Oh, I shouldn’t confuse you like that, that’s not nice. Steve and I were on the run once, and we got cornered in a public place. I pulled him into some affectionate displays-”

“For cover?” He said with comprehension and relief.

“Exactly.”

“For cover.”

“Yes.”

“And he's still a stiff kisser?”

“Well, I did suggest he get some pr… wait. I didn’t… what?”

“No, it’s fine. Um so… the blond. That one that I... attacked. He kissed her. But I haven’t seen her again. What’s going on there? What do we know about her?”

Nat’s eyes were wide. “When did they kiss?”

Barnes squinted the way he seemed to every time he searched for cues to gauge time and sort sequences. “It was… um… it was just before the Berlin airport.”

“That makes me happy. I think they could make each other happy.”

Barnes studied her face and seemed to read it correctly. “Oh. Never something there then?”

“Nah. Not that kind of relationship.”

“Is there a husband? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

Nat found herself pursing her lips together. “Single right now.”

“There’s a story there.”

“There is. And I'll probably tell you. But not today.”

“Fair enough.”

They played cards. They played backgammon. He gave her reviews of the three books he’d read last time he was awake. All three were science fiction.

There were more awkward moments, and more warm ones. She was happier and happier that she had come. He still didn’t have her name change down well, though, and appeared to have given up correcting himself.

Nat glanced at the window and noticed how low the sun had gotten. All of the sudden, she realized -- they would take him back into cryo soon. It would be soon.

The thought hit her in the gut.

And images she kept under the strictest of wraps started demanding her attention. Them dragging him away from her. The pain in his eyes, the blood on his face. Her terrible quiet nights of fear, turning into nights of overwhelming numbness, wondering where he was and what they were doing to him.

She shivered, shook her head. She searched the room for details to focus on, to memorize. The green strokes in a work of art on one wall. The detailed trim of a brown curtain on another. Anything. Anything here now, where they were safe.

She shouldn’t stay. They shouldn’t say goodbye. She couldn’t bear it.

Or they should say goodbye… they should demand a better goodbye than they got before.

She was frozen in indecision.

She considered bolting for the door, right then. No explanation offered. Her just... gone. She deliberated it.

Nat realized then that he had backed away and turned his back to her. He stood there, busying himself with some small thing, and waiting. Her no-goodbye option had occurred to him too.

Not only had it occurred to him, he was offering it.

She deliberated.

Then she walked over, and stood next to him.

“Barnes,” she whispered.

He turned slowly, worry for her clearly etched on his face. She put a hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and subtly leaned into her hand.

They stood there a moment. And then he opened his eyes and gazed into hers.

She licked her lips, and whispered. “Can I give you a hug?"

He nodded immediately.

Nat dropped her hand, and curled both of her arms firmly around him. His arm came around to cradle her. They still fit together perfectly, matched curves. They held each other close, their breathing immediately falling into a matched rhythm. There was a faint sense of alarm in the back of her head, warning her not to find comfort, not to relax. She ignored it, and luxuriated in drinking him in again… his scent, his warmth. Same chest. Same neck. Same heartbeat.

“I don’t know how to pay you back,” he spilled out quietly. His voice sounded resigned. “After what I did.”

“Shhhhh.”

“Natalia...”

She pulled away just enough to show him her exasperated eyeroll.

“James,” she replied with an edge.

He grinned.

“James, listen to me. Carefully. No debts between us. Ever.” He gazed at her while she repeated herself. “No debts, not between us.”

He pursed his lips together. And for a moment, everything in her wanted to protect him from everything that could hurt him.

She swallowed and impulsively opened her mouth. “You’re positive you want back in there?”

He knew what she meant. He nodded, and smiled. His whole face lit up. “Something changes in me,” he said quietly. “Each time. This is the first time I’ve felt hopeful about anything in a long time.”

She still didn’t understand. But she nodded.

“I’m going to go now,” she stated.

He nodded. She reluctantly pulled her arms back by her side and quickly began looking for any items she’d brought with her. Her attention darted to the couch and chair, and with her back to him she had the courage to say what she wanted to say. “I’m… I’m going to be here when you wake up again,” she declared.

“Causing more trouble?” he asked.

“You need trouble.” She looked at him very seriously. “You’ll be confused without it.”

He nodded in agreement. “Does Steve know?”

As she reached the door, she shook her head once. “Not yet. I’m not sure how to tell him.”

“We’ll sort it out. Don’t worry about it.”

_Trying to comfort me_ , she thought. She drank in the look of him one more time… so much of his whole self in front of her. The strength in his muscles, the fatigue in his bones, the softness in his heart and the fight in his eyes.

In response, he winked at her.

She quickly turned away to keep him from knowing her reaction, hoping that the barely-controlled gasp dissipated into the hallway. She managed then to close the door. She left, paying no heed to the path she took. The same elevator appeared in front of her, and she climbed in and pressed the button for the lobby. She thought she’d collect her things now and simply head to the airport and see what flights were waiting.

As Nat walked out the front door of the medical center, she felt the slanting sun might have waited around to greet her specifically. The warmth tingled, and lingered on her skin.


End file.
